Eustace. Damp? nonsense! Robin, do as I desire.
Charles. (Aside.) ’Tis there I have concealed her. There is not a moment to be lost.
[Exit.
Robin. (Whispers to Polyglot.) Be kind to poor Molly, and forgive her, sir.
Poly. (Lost in thought.) No, Molly—yes, Robin, yes.
Robin. Thankye, sir; it shall never happen again.
[Exit.
Eustace. Why, what is the meaning of all this? Tell me, Mr. Polyglot, what is the matter here? This confusion, and whispering!—Surely my sudden arrival cannot have occasioned any inconvenience. I expected to see you all delighted, and you receive me with faces as long as my arm.
Poly. Uncommonly long! uncommonly long!
Eustace. (Aside.) I perceive: the philosopher is in one of his fits of abstraction.—But there is an air of restraint about Charles, for which I am at a loss to account. Has he done any thing to provoke your displeasure?